


Right Here (Right Now)

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Affection, Cunnilingus, F/M, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Het, Laughter During Sex, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No TV, no clubs (of any persuasion) and no gym. How else do you pass the nights in the middle of the zombie apocalypse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Here (Right Now)

They're still kissing when Simon bears them both down onto the bed, laughing against her mouth. She ends up on top of him, rocking against his thigh, her mouth hot and demanding against his own. And who is he to refuse?

He kisses back, cupping her face between his hands. It's all tongues and heat and the scrape of her teeth against his lip makes him groan. It's not enough though, not for either of them, not now, and Janine grabs his hand firmly, her fingers digging into his wrist as she guides it down between her legs. He can feel her, god, hot and wet, her trousers damp already.

Thanks to him of course. He's not that modest.

“God, Jenny,” he groans, crooking his fingers up to rub her through her clothes and he's rewarded with the hitch of her breath and the way that she presses insistently against his hand. “You are so,” he mumbles between kisses, “so fucking _hot_.”

Janine laughs, a real one, bold and amused, her fingers combing through his hair, tugging lightly at it. “Good to know that you haven't lost the use of your mouth, Simon.”

“Not much chance of that,” Simon replies, smirking at her. “Want a demonstration?”

“I think that I could be persuaded to give you a chance to prove yourself,” she says, and then grinds down, right against his cock and if he hadn't already been hard, he is now. Damn, he's glad for stretchy fabric in jogging pants.

“Well, don't I feel honoured?”

“You should,” Janine says, and then gives a startled, breathless laugh as Simon grabs her and rolls them over, spreading her out beneath him.

“Oh, I do,” he says, grinning as he shoves her shirt up, hands sliding over warm skin, her hips and stomach and breasts. He pushes it up and over her head, strands of hair coming free from the tight braid that she normally keeps it in. He cups her breasts, rubbing his thumbs along the edges of the lace on her black bra. It's funny. He'd never pegged her for the lingerie type, but damn if she doesn't have some fun stuff tucked away in the farmhouse. He slides a finger just beneath the top of her bra and she bats it away impatiently.

“Stop _teasing_ ,” she says, though it's more amused than annoyed, and she pushes herself up to unfasten her bra herself, leaving him to pull it off slowly, smirking at her.

Simon gives a soft laugh, shaking his head as he hurls it off somewhere, and stops Janine's noise of protest with a kiss. He begins to fondle her breasts, thumbs stroking over her nipples until they peak beneath his touch. “Usually, girls complain that they're not being teased _enough_.”

She bites down on his lip hard enough to make him hiss and his gaze darken, a flush of heat running right through his cock. Janine smiles sharply, knowing exactly what effect that has on him, the edge of pain in the middle of pleasure. “A good thing then, Simon, that I am not a _girl_ ,” she says reproachfully, her voice steely.

“Right, right, sorry,” he says, kissing her more gently in apology. “You're just about the most real woman I've ever met.”

“As opposed to all of your fictional women,” Janine replies teasingly.

“Hey now!” Simon protests. “I don't hear you complaining about my technique. Got to have learnt that somewhere.”

“I dread to think,” Janine replies, and then slides a leg over his arse, pulling him insistently closer so that she can grind against him. He matches her, rubbing himself against her hip and dear god is he glad that he's not wearing jeans.

She grabs him after a couple of moments, fingers tangling in his hair to drag him down for another bruising kiss, teeth scraping against his lips, then pulling away to graze along his jaw.

“Trousers. Off,” she growls, lips brushing lightly against his ear.

“God, I love it when you get all bossy like that,” he moans, hurrying to comply.

“Oh? Perhaps I should take over your missions from Mr. Yao,” Janine suggests as Simon undoes the button of her practical work trousers, tugging them down insistently.

“Have you ever tried running with a raging hard on?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow. “Not much fun.”

She laughs softly and kicks her trousers off the last few inches. “Not for you. Very amusing for me.”

“Sadist.”

“If you want sadism, Si, all you have to do is ask. But not now. Now, don't you have a job to do?”

“Yes ma'am,” Simon replies, grinning. He slides one hand down over her chest and stomach to curl against her hip, pressing her gently down against the bed. He presses his other hand between her legs, rubbing against the damp knickers and pressing up and in until she grinds down against his hand, a soft cry escaping her. God, he loves hearing her like that, unrestrained, moaning for him.

He pauses momentarily to pull off his own t-shirt. Janine presses her hands against his (in his humble opinion) fantastic abs, stroking against his skin with the fleeting scratch of nails to make him shiver.

Simon hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, tugging them down and Janine raises her hips to help. He does it slowly, hands running over her thighs and calves, muscled from hard work rather than hours in the gym. He takes a moment to look her over, grinning and smug as he pulls off his trousers and underwear, letting out a little sigh of relief when he frees his cock.

Janine's expression, he catches it briefly, is fond, affectionate, but it's gone quickly and then her hands curl against the back of his neck, against his bicep, to pull him down for another rough kiss. Simon lingers there, dipping back down for another, and another, lips against her cheek and jaw, that spot close to her ear that she insists isn't sensitive but when she squirms like that she kind of blows that argument out of the water.

It leaves his lips a little tender, sore in the most pleasant of ways. He leans over her, starting to kiss his way down her body, soft skin and scars, tongue flicking out against her breasts, peaked nipples, before he moves lower.

He noses at the dark curls, hands coming up to rest against her thighs, spreading them for him to dip his head between. He slides his tongue out against her clit, grins when he feels her shudder, and then pauses breathing against her teasingly.

Janine's hands tangle in his hair and she tugs sharply, enough to make him moan. “ _Simon_ ,” she says, and he tilts his head up to look at her, licking his lips, gaze heavy lidded and hungry, “if you don't continue, then I can guarantee that you will never enter this farmhouse again.”

She gives another twist of her fingers for emphasis and Simon groans and lowers his head again, letting her feel his laugh against her skin. It is a threat though, and she might hold to it, even if only for a few days.

He swipes his tongue out again, a slow lick over her clit and down to press inside her, tasting her properly. She squirms above him, fingers tensing in his hair and the little scrape of pain just drives him onwards. She's slick against his tongue and lips as he kisses and licks her, making her moan for him. He slides one hand down over her thigh to tease his fingers against the edges of her, then press in, crooked inside her, twisting while his tongue keeps up with driving her mad.

It's satisfying this, the arch of her back and tangle of her fingers in his hair, holding him against her, forceful and demanding. He could just drink in the sound of her moans forever.

She goes stiff and tense when she comes, crying out unrestrained like she never is outside, and Simon keeps working her over, milking out every drop until her grip on him slackens, and the tension seeps out of her. Even then, he licks and teases her, rubbing his finger against her clit until she moans in protest and bats idly at him.

“Good?” he asks, and he can't keep the smugness out of his voice.

She makes a sound that's probably cursing, albeit muffled against the pillow. Simon pulls away to crawl up along her body and kiss her firmly. “You look gorgeous like that, Jenny,” he says, kissing along her jaw, the soft skin of her neck. “Wish I could set a mirror up so you could watch yourself.”

Janine snorts softly. “My bedroom is not some tawdry sex club, Simon.”

“Now there's something that Abel doesn't have yet,” he replies, kissing her again, long and lingering, and he rubs up against her, cock pressed against her stomach, still hard and sensitive.

“We are not opening a sex club,” Janine says, lips pressed tight in disapproval. “Besides, I rather like keeping you to myself,” she adds, voice softening for just a moment.

“Careful, Jenny,” Simon says fondly, resting their foreheads together. “Next you'll start saying that you care about me.”

“Idiot,” is Janine's response, a faint smile curling her lips. Her hand comes to cup his cheek gently for a moment, stroking over the scruff of a beard before drawing him down to kiss him again and again in a way that makes him ache. Can't get enough of her. 

She wraps a leg around his thighs, pulling him close, holding him tightly as he rocks and rubs up against her stomach. Simon drops his head against her shoulder, breathing in sweat and harsh soap and musk that's her, just her. His breathing turns ragged as he gets close, Janine rolling her hips up to meet him, driving him higher and higher until his motions get jerky and he comes, muffling his cry against her shoulder, spilling out over Janine's stomach and his own.

Janine strokes his sweat-damp hair, peppering kisses against his face, the line of his jaw, the scrape of teeth against his skin. “Good?” she asks, voice almost a purr, throwing his words back at him.

“God, Jenny,” he says, sounding breathless, a better breathless than he gets from running. “So good.”

She laughs, and it's pretty when she laughs. He's always liked it. Wishes he could hear it more often. He rolls off her, slumping back down onto the bed on his back. After a moment she curls up next to him, tucked against his side, and Simon wraps an arm around her, holding her close by him, maybe a little more tightly than he needs to. You cling to what you have and they have so little these days. Simon turns his head to nuzzle against her hair, pressing his lips against it. “Jenny I-”

“Don't,” Janine says, and she presses a kiss against his shoulder in what he likes to think of as apology. “Go to sleep. You have a run tomorrow, do you not?”

He gives a short laugh and lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. Yeah I do. And you probably have a million top secret things to get on with.”

“Perhaps,” Janine replies and he can feel her smile. “But if I told you, then I might have to kill you.”

“There's something to be said for a little death,” Simon says smugly and she snorts. 

“Covers, Simon. I have a proper duvet. I'd rather like to make use of it.”

“Whatever ma'am says,” he teases as he pulls the thick duvet up and over them both, settling down to sleep. She's right. He needs to sleep. 

He's halfway there when her leg twines between his, her arm wrapping around him in return, and even mostly unconscious, he smiles.


End file.
